and justice.’
‘Very well then. That is our last riddle: how does a man speak without saying anything? And once it is answered, everything that has been happening here at Belsfield becomes plain. It is all a matter of hands, Mr Lomax. Hands – and rats – and a game of football.’
She jumped up restlessly and went to the window, pulled the curtain aside a little and peered out. The sun was drying the dew on the lawns, and the trees of the park burnt in glorious golds and reds and russets. She was shocked by the brightness and the ordinariness of the day, almost as if she had expected to see the trees and the rose urns draped in black and the peacocks all sombre-eyed with mourning.
‘The hands puzzled me from the very beginning,’ she said, with her back still turned upon him and her eyes fixed on the glowing foliage of the park. ‘You see, I heard only two reports of Mr Pollard. One from Catherine and one from the ostler at the Feathers. But it was remarkable that both reports mentioned his hands. That is strange, don’t you think, Mr Lomax? Why should hands be so very memorable? Catherine is sure that when she saw Mr Pollard, his hands were empty. Why? Why was she so certain? It seemed to me that he must have been holding his hands up in some way. And the ostler said that he had fine white hands – which is a strange thing to remember. Faces, yes, we all remember faces, but hands? It seemed to me that Mr Pollard’s hands must be particularly prominent. He holds them out in such a way that draws attention to them.’
She turned and caught a small smile on Lomax’s haggard face, but he immediately became solemn. She hurried on with her story, feeling that it was safest now to get it all told quickly.
‘And then there was the football,’ she said. ‘Not much was known of the household at Tudor Cottage – except that sometimes the servants indulged themselves in a noisy game upon the drive. The girl who told me of it believed that the master must be absent from the house because, even though he did not see the game, she reasoned, he would have
Lomax folded his arms, shook his head a little and watched her as if she were something rare and rather remarkable. ‘And what of the rats?’ he said.
‘Ah, yes, the rats. It took me a long time to understand the rats. You see, soon after I came to Belsfield, Miss Sophia Harris told me about a rat hunt that had taken place here. Richard Montague had failed to let the dogs go when his friends gave the signal. Miss Sophia thought he was overcome with compassion for the rats, but I doubted that. Such tenderness would have been quite remarkable in a young man who had grown up at Belsfield, surrounded always by shooting and hunting, and would certainly have drawn attention on other occasions. But it was clear that something distressed Mr Montague that day.’
Dido left the window and took a seat at the table; leaning across the clutter of pens and letters, she continued with a flush creeping up her cheeks. ‘In fact, it all happened just as he said, Mr Lomax. There was no great excess of pity. He simply failed to hear the signal that his companions gave. And, although for anyone else that might have been nothing, for Richard Montague it was a terrible moment. Because you see, Richard has always feared that he might go deaf – that he might come to share his brother’s affliction.’
There was a long silence in the library, broken only by the occasional crack of sparks on the hearth. Lomax showed no inclination to speak and, after waiting a while, Dido decided that it would perhaps be better, after all, to finish her tale before she lost her courage.
‘Edgar Montague is only deaf,’ she said. ‘There is nothing wrong with his wits. He does not hear, and naturally he cannot speak since he has never heard speech. But in everything else he is a healthy young man. He is simply deaf. This makes sense not only of the way in which his servants knew they could play upon the drive with impunity, it also explains why the household at Hopton Cresswell did not in any way sound like one formed for the restraint of a lunatic and why Richard remembered the summer he spent in Lyme with such pleasure: his brother had been an agreeable companion.’ She hesitated a moment, but it must all be said. She pressed on. ‘It also explains the marriage. That was just as I said. A young man living a retired life fell in love with the woman who shared his home and married her secretly. But that young man was Edgar Montague, not Richard. The father’s outrage was perhaps even greater than I imagined. For the expected child was not only the heir to Belsfield and the son of a common woman, but it might also share its father’s infirmity.’
‘And why do you think the woman came here that day?’
‘To tell her ladyship of her marriage – and her condition. It is impossible to understand her reason exactly because I know nothing of her character. But I think that it was hearing of her brother-in-law’s engagement that prompted her to action. Motherhood – even expected motherhood – can change a woman. Many women are ambitious for their children even though they are content to live in obscurity themselves.’
She stopped at last, short of both breath and courage. The look on Lomax’s face was strange. His brow was still lined with anxiety but beneath it there was a new light in his grey eyes. He watched her for several moments – until she became too conscious of his look and lowered her eyes. Hot blood swept up her cheeks. The silence roared in her ears.
But when he spoke, his voice was calm and he sounded like nothing so much as a schoolmaster prompting a pupil who has given a promising but incomplete answer. ‘Very well, Miss Kent, and what pray is the answer to our riddle? How does a man speak without saying anything?’
‘The answer, of course, is with his hands. A great deal may be said with the hands if they are used in one of those systems of signing that are taught to the deaf.’ She paused but he said nothing; he only continued to watch her while his long fingers played with the spilt sand. ‘Mr Pollard,’ she continued, ‘taught such a system to Edgar when he was a child. And Richard, no doubt, learnt it during that happy summer which he spent with his brother at Lyme. And, by the by, I believe that this was also the reason why Mr Pollard was asked to come to Hopton Cresswell. To a conscientious young man it would be very important that the clergyman conducting the marriage ceremony should be able to understand the language in which he made his vows.
‘But once Mr Pollard knew of the deception that Sir Edgar was practising, he felt it was his duty to tell Richard Montague of the matter. He came to Belsfield and found the engagement celebrations in progress. And then,’ she paused and shrugged. ‘Well, what better way was there for him to convey a private message in a crowded ballroom than with his hands – using a system of communication which no one else but Richard would understand?’ She stopped again, but again he remained silent. ‘Well?’ she cried impatiently. ‘Am I right?’
‘Yes,’ he said, withdrawing his hand from the table and folding his arms. ‘You are right.’
‘Very well then,’ she said eagerly, leaning across the table. ‘Edgar Montague is only deaf, he is not astray in his wits?’
‘That is correct.’
‘Then you have no good cause to rob him of his inheritance. He is capable of enjoying his estate and of administering his own affairs.’
‘Indeed, he is probably more capable than most. He is a very able young man.’
Her hands clenched into fists on the table. She was willing him with her whole being to relent and prove himself just and honourable. ‘Then you will make his existence known to the world?’
But he shook his head. ‘I have made a promise, Miss Kent. I have given my word…’
‘To a man who was not worthy of your loyalty!’ she cried, unable to contain herself any longer. ‘You have given your word to a tyrant and a murderer, Mr Lomax. His behaviour dissolves all ties and duties…’
Suddenly she was overwhelmed. Worn down as she was by sleepless nights and days of restless activity; shocked by the death of Sir Edgar and by her own discoveries; worried for Catherine and more disappointed than she dared own in the man before her, she found that she was quite unable to hold back tears. They rose up, scalding her eyes and choking her words. For a moment she was blind and deaf to everything but misery.
Then she became aware of a strong warm hand laid over her clenched fists and an anxious voice speaking at her side. ‘My dear Miss Kent, please do not distress yourself. I shall do everything I can to help you.’ She looked up and saw him bending over her with great concern. He was looking at her clearly and directly. ‘I am not quite the scoundrel you take me for…’ he began fervently and then seemed to recollect himself. He took away his hand and sat down at the table. ‘You must understand that when I spoke just now of making a promise to Sir Edgar, I did not refer to the man who is dead – I spoke of the
Dido stared at him.
‘It is his own wish to remain hidden from the world. When, at just sixteen, he agreed to his father’s proposal of seclusion, I thought that he would perhaps change his mind as he grew older. And, if he had given the word, I was prepared to support him in exerting his claims. But he never has changed his mind. He is a very quiet, scholarly
